


Everybody Has a Dream

by forestfantail



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fanfic AU, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestfantail/pseuds/forestfantail
Summary: Jemma Simmons is a brilliant biochemist who spends her free time writing fanfiction. Her best friend Daisy gets her to watch a terrible new show, but it stars one of Jemma’s favorite actors—Leopold Fitz—in a kilt, so…how bad can it be?Fanfic AU. Also, Fitz in a kilt, because Jemma made me do it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Teen for a few mentions of sex pollen in later chapters. (It is a fanfic au.)
> 
> No beta, because I don't know how you get one of those.

_Harry leaned over and put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “We’ll get through it, mate. Together.”_

Jemma frowned and bit her lip. She deleted “mate.” Should he call him “love?” Was that too obvious? She was hoping not to reveal their relationship until Chapter 3…

A knock at the door broke her concentration. She stood up from the table and walked from her breakfast nook toward the apartment’s entryway. The knocking began again and did not stop.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” she called.

She opened the door and was nearly bowled over by Daisy, who rushed past her. “Oh my god, oh my god, stop whatever you’re doing.”

Daisy paused, looking around the quiet room. “What were you doing?”

“Writing—"

“Writing fanfic, yes. Ooh, what happens in the next chapter? Harry and Draco seem like such enemies in this one.”

Jemma smiled to herself. “You’ll just have to read and find out.”

Daisy mumbled “can’t wait,” while searching Jemma’s couch for something. “Where’s your remote?”

Jemma walked over to where she kept her remote control like any sane person—in its own little tray beside the television—and handed it to Daisy. “What is the emergency, Daisy?” Despite Daisy’s antics, Jemma wasn’t really concerned. Daisy was always excited about something, but really nothing new ever happened. Jemma went to her job at a biochemical lab each day, and each night she wrote her fanfiction and dreamed of being a writer. Some days Daisy would come over, and they would binge-watch something and drink too much wine. Jemma’s life, even with a crazy friend like Daisy, was fairly predictable.

Daisy was scrolling through Netflix now. “Remember,” she said, “when I told you about that show? The one starring Grant Ward?”

Jemma tried to scan her brain for this information. “No, I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t tell you, whatever. It’s like a sequel to Braveheart, except the plot and characters are totally different and everyone keeps singing.”

Jemma started to speak and then tilted her head to the side. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, but you’re going to love it.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Because…” Daisy had finally found the show and brought up the promotional image. “Kilts.”

Jemma raised her eyebrows. The title of the show was Braveheart Again: The Musical. The tagline read: “Their hearts couldn’t get any braver, a-doo-wop-a-doo.”

“’A-doo-wop-a-doo?’” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s from the title song. I know it’s trash, but it’s been stuck in my head the whole drive over here. You have to watch this.”

“I don’t know…” she started to say, but then paused. “Is that?” she walked up to the television and pointed at one of the men on the screen. There could be no denying. It was him.

“That’s Leopold Fitz!”

“Who?” asked Daisy.

“Leopold Fitz! From that play I took you to see on our trip to England, by the Royal Shakespeare Company. He was incredible! Don’t you remember?”

“Is that the one where everyone had a British accent?”

Jemma grit her teeth. “We were in England. Of course everyone had a British accent!”

“Oh yeah, I do kind of remember him.” Daisy was also peering at the actor on the screen. “He’s cute.” She nudged Jemma’s shoulder. “And wearing a kilt.”

Jemma could feel herself blushing. Well, if an actor this brilliant (and admittedly handsome) was in it, how bad could it be? “It is a nice row of men in kilts, I’ll give you that.”

Daisy grinned. “I thought you’d say that. I’ll go get the wine.”

 

 

“That was the most insensitive, culturally-appropriating load of nonsense,” said Jemma. “The writing was horrendous. I couldn’t find a plot in that script using a high-powered microscope. And the singing!”

Daisy was refilling Jemma’s wine. “Exactly. So, you want to watch another episode?” she asked.

Jemma hadn’t taken her eyes off the screen during her entire rant. An image of Leopold Fitz was frozen in place on the television. It looked like he was smiling at her.

“Well, just one more,” she said.

 

 

Three episodes later Jemma was a little inebriated and a lot offended. “How can he stand there around all those people with their terrible Scottish accents? It must be so infuriating for him.”

“For who now?” asked Daisy. She was twirling her glass in one hand and playing on her phone with the other.

“Leopold Fitz! Those accents are just awful!”

“His isn’t so bad, though. Not totally believable, but pretty good.”

“He isn’t doing an accent. He actually is Scottish!” said Jemma.

“Ok, ok. Maybe enough for you with the wine.” Daisy hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“The worst one is Grant Ward. He sounds like a drunk Neanderthal!”

“Hey hey hey, hold it now.” Jemma suddenly had Daisy’s full-on attention. “Let’s not speak ill of the most beautiful man to ever wear a kilt.”

“Daisy, you can not be serious. He’s dreadful!

“He most certainly is not. He is handsome and I read in an article that he had a really rough childhood and something about his older brother and a piece of cake and he will be mine some day.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. She wasn’t really sure what they were talking about anymore, but Leopold Fitz had the prettiest blue eyes. She would have to write something about them.

“You’re just upset because they have your boyfriend paired up with that Ophelia hag.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” Jemma said, although she realized it really didn’t need to be said. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a very long time and never one who looked that…delicious. “She is a hag, though,” Jemma acknowledged.

“Which is why you will have to steal him.”

“Hmmh?” asked Jemma, her mouth full of wine.

Daisy took one last look at her phone and then held it up in triumph. “Because I just got us a behind the scenes tour.”

“What,” Jemma coughed and tried to swallow, “are you talking about?”

“I’ve been trying to get on set since I found out they were filming season 2 nearby.” Daisy looked very pleased with herself. “Trip totally came through!”

“They’re filming close to here?”

“Yeah, just outside the city. They needed green rolling hills or something. To make it look like Scotland.”

“It does not look like Scotland.” Jemma thought back to that trip her family had taken to Perthshire when she was a girl. What a magical place.

“Fine, whatever, it’s a horrible show and everything in it is wrong.” Daisy’s grin reached from ear to ear. “But guess who gets to meet a real-live Scottish cutie in a kilt?” She danced her phone in front of Jemma’s face. “Say yes, say yes!”

“Alright!” said Jemma. “I’ll go. But I am not going to enjoy it. You know how nervous I get around famous people.”

“I do remember the Mike Peterson incident of 2013.”

“I couldn’t stop talking. Who tells someone they’re ‘symmetrical’?!”

“A question I still ask myself. But don’t worry. It’ll be a blast.”

Daisy had a mischievous grin on her face that Jemma didn’t like. Oh well, she thought. What’s the worst that could happen?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea how to write a musical so "a-doo-wop-a-doo" is the best you're getting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned that I know nothing about how a television set looks or works, so this is probably nonsense (but hopefully fun nonsense). Enjoy!

_“It must be the alien pollen! I just can’t stop myself!”_

_He put up his hands in protest. “No, we musn’t! I don’t know if we’re capable of giving consent right now. And consent is so important!”_

_The beautiful biochemist tossed her shirt onto the floor. “I consented the moment I first saw you. Now hike up that kilt and come here!”_

Jemma was enjoying writing this piece, that was for sure. She didn’t know if it was her best work, though. She couldn’t actually remember how the biochemist had travelled back in time to the Scottish castle or how the sex pollen had arrived…but who was she to argue when inspiration struck?

Her phone vibrated. Yes, yes, Daisy was on her way. Jemma was not looking forward to this set tour. She had changed her outfit at least a dozen times, not sure if she should go for casual or hot or casually hot? It wasn’t like it was a date, and she had no way of knowing if they’d actually see any of the cast or not. Of course, if they did…she took one last look at her laptop screen and closed it. She really should put on lipstick.

 

 

“Hey girl!” said a very handsome and fit man with a huge grin on his face. He was waving at Daisy from the edge of the parking lot they had been directed to park in.

“Who is that and where have you been hiding him?” asked Jemma.

“Relax, it’s just Trip.”

“Just?” Jemma did not think there was anything “just” about a man that visually appealing.

“He’s a friend of a friend. From my hacker life.” Daisy was a computer genius, consulting in IT at Jemma’s biotech company but also…well, she certainly had other less reputable exploits going from the occasional hints she gave. Jemma did not pry into this other life, and Daisy did not elaborate.

“He’s trying to get into show-business, or whatever, so he’s a PA on set here. He got us this tour, so be nice.”

“When am I not?” Jemma said, slightly offended. She was always nice; it was one of the things that made her so charming.

“Hello, gorgeous,” said Trip. He gave Daisy a playful punch on the arm. “And I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” he said, reaching a hand out to Jemma.

“Jemma Simmons,” she said. She shook his hand. My, he was dashing, wasn’t he?

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “So,” he turned to Daisy, “I hear you love our show. And I thought you had taste.”

“Whoa, harsh there, playboy. You help make this show.”

“I’m here for the resume. And if it helps me meet beautiful women, that’s ok, too.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, but Jemma thought she might actually have seen her blush. And Jemma had never once seen Daisy blush.

“Whatever, pathetic attempts at flirting later,” Daisy said. “Right now I want to see some tv stars!”

Trip motioned them toward a trailer parked on a green lawn. “The tour starts over there in a few. But I could show you where I work now if you—”

“Oh my—what—totally no way! There he is!” Daisy was starting to squeal and point frantically.

“Who?” Jemma’s head whipped around. Leopold?

“It’s Grant Ward!” At the sound of his name a tall man with dark hair looked over his shoulder. He was walking out of a trailer some ways away and going in the opposite direction of them. He scowled and kept walking.

“That was him!” said Daisy. “I can’t believe it! Do you think we could get closer and get a picture? I’m never going to be able to breathe again.” Daisy was talking so quickly that Jemma feared she really might hyperventilate.

Trip put his hand on her shoulder. “We can’t go after the actors. That’s not part of the tour. Which is about to start,” he said. He started walking and gestured for them to follow him.

“I just can’t. Did you see his arms?!” Daisy was still blabbering.

Jemma heard Trip mumble, “Like I said: I thought you had taste.”

 

 

“So, where do the actors hang out, like when they’re not, you know, acting?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. Some of these people on the tour were even more obsessed with the actors than Daisy. And that was saying something.

The tour guide started talking about how much actors like food, and Jemma’s eyes wandered off over the stretch of green beside her. It really was a pretty spot, where they were doing these outdoor scenes. It did not even come close to comparing to Scotland, but if you squinted a little—

“Ok,” said a whisper in her ear, “we have to come up with a plan.”

Jemma looked at Daisy. “A plan?”

“You know, for _really_ getting behind the scenes.”

“What? You must be joking.” Jemma was certain that Daisy had to be joking.

“Oh come on. Do you think I finagled us onto this tour just so we could hear that this is Taco Tuesday?” Daisy frowned in thought. “Although I really should snag a taco.”

“What exactly is your intention then, Daisy? You can’t actually expect to get to Grant Ward.”

Daisy huffed in exasperation. “No, of course not.” She arched an eyebrow. “Although if I do happen to run into him and he does happen to fall in love with me I wouldn't be surprised. It's fate.”

“Daisy—”

“No, just listen.” The tour guide was leading them on, but Daisy pulled Jemma to the back and held her arm. “I am going to get this—” she held up a flash drive “to someone in casting.”

“What? What is that?”

“It’s me. Singing.” Daisy actually looked a bit sheepish. “I just, I really want to be on the show.”

“Are you serious? This show?”

“This show, any show. I want to get to sing for real. You know that’s my dream.”

Jemma frowned. The tour guide called back to them, urging them to keep up. They started walking faster.

“Why can’t Trip do it? He got us this tour. He must know people.”

“He refused. Said they didn’t take random audition tapes and he’d be laughed out of the room.”

“Well then what makes you think they won’t laugh you out of the room?”

“Because you are so sweet and cute and British.”

“Wait.” Jemma stopped and wheeled around to face Daisy. “What do you mean me?”

“Look, you are the perfect person to do this. Just act all innocent and I’m new and someone asked me to take this to casting, which way is it? They’ll totally buy it!”

“No,” said Jemma. “No bad-girl shenanigans! I've told you!”

“Simmons, I need you on this. I’ve already made a spectacle of myself; I can tell they’re watching me.”

“Well, if you hadn’t tried to grab Grant Ward’s kilt off the rack—”

“It was right in front of me! What did they expect?”

Jemma shook her head. “Honestly, Daisy…”

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t really important to me. It’s my dream. Just like you and you’re writing. And this may be my only chance.”

Jemma sighed. And grabbed the flash drive. “What do I have to do?”

“Yes! Thank you thank you. You will not regret this.”

Jemma waved the drive in the air. “It better not be full of you singing Britney Spears, either.”

Daisy’s mouth fell open a bit. “Errr, of course it’s not. Just, nevermind that. Let’s talk plan.”

A few minutes later, after the tour guide had pointed out the offices of the show’s producers and other staff, Jemma tentatively raised her hand in the air.

“Yes?” said the tour guide.

“Could you tell me where the toilet is, please?” Daisy gave Jemma a grin and a thumbs up. Jemma scowled at her.

 

 

 

Jemma was lost. She had wandered in the direction that the tour guide had pointed out and then tried to double back in the direction of the offices and now she had no idea where she was. How could a small television set be so confusing? All of these trailers looked just alike—it was like some sort of maze. She came around a corner and nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry,” she said, as she looked up. And up and up until—a very familiar face glared back at her. Grant Ward. He was certainly taller than he looked on television.

“You almost took my head off. Watch it,” he said. This seemed like a very inaccurate statement. She didn’t think she could reach his head if she tried.

“So sorry!” she said, and reached out to—what, what was she going to do—touch the famous actor? He jerked back, clearly irritated.

“No, I was, oops, I’m just, you know, terribly lost.” Well, at least she was telling the truth. Daisy had told her many times she was terrible at lying. Now that she thought of that—why on earth had Daisy asked her to do this?

Grant narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, me? I’m just, as it were, new around here.” For some unknown reason she had started exaggeratedly twirling her hair around her finger. Displaying a sense of carefree nonchalance, as one does.

“Working here and all. I am new. And I was wondering—”

Grant pointed at her. “Hey, I know you.”

“You do?” she was genuinely shocked. Perhaps her cover was working better than she thought.

“Yeah, you were one of those girls screaming at me when I left my trailer. You’re some groupie.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call us girls, more like strong and fully adult women…”

Grant narrowed his eyes.

“Not that that’s the point…clearly—”

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He had yet to sound friendly, but now he sounded downright scary.

“I told you I’m lost and—”

“You lied to me,” he said. “You said you work here.”

“Well, aren’t we all just working all the time, in life, really?”

Grant was not amused. “Look, you sweaty cosplay girls can be fun, but I’m not in the mood and you need to get the hell off my set before you really do get to see the real me.” He looked her up and down. “And I doubt a little thing like you could handle it.”

Jemma could feel her face turning red. She was frantically trying to come up with something to say.

“What,” said Grant, leaning closer toward her, “are you doing here?”

Jemma was about to turn and run, when a voice called out behind her.

“Oh, there you are.”

Grant looked up and the scowl deepened on his face.

The man attached to this voice came up behind Jemma and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you get lost?”

Jemma looked up into the face of the man now standing beside her. The man touching her. The man she had seen so many times and yet had never seen at all. Leopold Fitz.

OMG. OMG OMG OMG—Jemma’s brain went into a sort of short circuit for a moment, and she could only barely tell that the two men were talking.

“You actually know this girl?” said Grant.

“All British people know each other, Ward. Don’t you know that?”

Ward shrugged. “Whatever, Fitz.”

Fitz had removed his hand from Jemma—much to her disappointment—and now he turned back to her. “You did get lost?”

She nodded. That was the best she could do at the moment.

“I saw her come in with some screaming fan. How do you know her?”

Fitz shook his head. “She’s a family friend. Visiting from England and maybe she brought along a friend of hers who’s a fan, I don’t know.”

Ward rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I don’t have time for this, Fitz. She said she worked here.”

Fitz looked over at Jemma. She was sure her terror showed on her face.

“She’s just a little star struck, I bet. She’s a big fan of yours,” said Fitz.

Ward was still clearly miffed, but he appeared somewhat mollified. He apparently found it very believable that he had some sort of crazy impact on women.

“Fine, Fitz,” he said. “Just keep your women off me, alright?” He began walking away.

“Not a problem, Ward.” Ward turned the corner. “You bloody wanker,” Fitz mumbled.

Jemma laughed. Fitz seemed to realize once again that she was there and smiled. “Leopold Fitz,” he said. Jemma looked at him in confusion. “My name,” he said. “I prefer just Fitz, though. You probably don’t know, but I’m on the show with Ward.”

Jemma smiled. “I know.”

Fitz nodded. “Sorry about Ward, he’s such a prat. Heard him harassing you from my trailer—” he pointed to the trailer beside them, “and I thought I’d come help.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said. She was managing simple phrases. She was really proud of herself.

“Glad I could help. Now, what are you really doing back here?”

Jemma gripped the flash drive tighter in her pocket. “I’m just casting, it’s the, with the tour, you know…” she said. Fitz was squinting at her, apparently straining to grasp some meaning from what she was saying.

Jemma looked around frantically. She pointed to a traffic cone beside him. “Sorry, is that the loo, there?”

Fitz laughed out loud. “Wow. You really need to work on your espionage skills, if you’re going to be doing this level of undercover work.”

Jemma came back to herself a bit with a pout. She was doing the best she could, ok!

“I’m just trying to help a friend,” she said.

Fitz gave her an encouraging smile. “Help this friend do what, exactly?”

It was at this point that Jemma gave up. She wasn’t cut out for this. She pulled the flash drive out of her pocket. “An audition. I was supposed to try to give it to someone on the show.”

Fitz winced. “Please tell me it’s not your audition. No offense, but I’m not sure you could act to save your life. No wait, I just saw you prove you can’t with Ward.”

Jemma was momentarily offended but that was quickly overtaken by concern. “Would he have actually killed me?” she asked.

Fitz shrugged. “He’s not a pleasant man, but I’ve never known him to commit murder. Except to the English language.”

Jemma laughed. She kept doing that. Leopold Fitz was talking to her, and Leopold Fitz was funny.

“It’s not my audition,” she said. “It’s for my—”

“Friend. Right, you said.” Fitz gave her a long look. It was a pleasant experience.

“Ok,” he said, “hand it over.”

“What?” Jemma was confused.

“Give it to me, and I’ll get it to the right people.”

Jemma gaped at him. “Really? You would do that?”

“Yeah, yeah, why not?” he said. “It’s not every day I meet beautiful British women who need my help. Makes me feel all chivalrous.”

Jemma handed him the flash drive. She felt a thrill of electricity go up her arm as their hands touched. “Thank you.”

Fitz put the flash drive in his pocket. “Don’t mention it.”

There was an awkward pause and Fitz reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Umm, so I have to get to work.”

“Oh!” Jemma suddenly realized she had been staring at him. “Yes, yes, so sorry, yes.”

“Nice to meet you…” he paused and gave her a pointed look. It took her a moment to realize he was asking for her name.

“Jemma!” she said. “Jemma Simmons.”

“Well, Jemma Simmons, it was very nice to meet you. Good luck finding the loo.” He gave her a crooked grin and walked away.

“Thank you!” she called out after him. He waved a hand back at her in response.

Jemma spun around once and then twice for good measure. She had met Leopold Fitz and almost been killed by Grant Ward. She looked at the traffic cone and remembered she still didn’t know where she was and also that she really did have to pee now. She probably should have asked one of them for directions.

She was halfway home in the car with Daisy before she remembered that Leopold Fitz had called her beautiful.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma heard a whimper from her living room. She sighed, placing another biscuit on the tray.

“Daisy? You ok?”

An exaggerated moan sounded from the other room. “Nooo.” Jemma couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Honestly.

She carried the tray from the kitchen and placed it on the coffee table in front of Daisy, who was draped across Jemma’s couch with one arm covering her face.

“Here you are. Tea and biscuits. That should make you feel better.”

Daisy uncovered her face and looked over at the tray. “What is it with you people and tea?”

Jemma winced, but reminded herself that Daisy had just destroyed her chances at achieving her lifelong dream. She would not respond to this statement. She may come back to it later, however.

Despite her complaints, Daisy was now sitting upright and helping herself to the tray of goodies. “Thanks, Simmons.”

“No worries. Would you like to talk about it?”

Daisy scrunched her face into a pout. “Not really.”

Poor Daisy, Jemma would have to think of something to distract her. Certainly not watching that damn kilt-show—

“It’s just that I tried so hard, you know. Like, really hard. And it all came out wrong. They asked me what my experience was and I said that I was in a talent show in the fourth grade. A talent show!”

Apparently, Daisy did want to discuss how her audition had gone, at length. Jemma sat down beside her and drank one cup of tea and then another, nodding all the while.

“And then I hit the high note and there was just silence. Silence. They didn’t say a word.”

Jemma patted her on the knee. “At least you got an audition. That’s something.”

“But I ruined it! My one shot and I ruined it.”

Jemma didn’t know what to say. She had been shocked that Daisy had received a call from the show, asking if she wanted to audition for a small role. Leopold Fitz had apparently followed through with his promise of giving Daisy’s thumb drive to the right people. How sweet of him.

“And I even saw Ward.” Jemma was snapped out of her reverie.

“You did? Did you speak to him?”

Daisy shrugged. “They introduced him to me, not sure why. And then he was all ‘hey I know you from somewhere’ and I was all ‘yeah from your dreams’ and everyone laughed. Except him, of course. What a tool.”

Daisy’s opinion of Grant Ward had changed drastically since Jemma had told him how he treated her that day on set. "Nobody almost kills my bestie; I don't care what his abs look like," she had said.

Jemma reached for the tea try. “Should I call for takeout? Drown our sorrows in curry?”

Daisy mumbled something indistinct while looking at her phone. “I’m getting a call. It’s from—oh whoa.” She answered the call and ran off to Jemma’s bedroom, Jemma assumed to talk in private.

Jemma carried the tray into the kitchen and was just starting the washing when Daisy bounced into the room.

“I got the part! I got the part!”

 

 

Jemma turned at the sound of someone calling her name. It was Trip.

“Oh, thank goodness it’s you. I’ve been lost on this set before; it’s good to see a friendly face.”

Trip gave her a hug. “Glad you could make it. Daisy’s in hair and makeup right now, but I’ll take you from here.”

After several weeks, Jemma was back on the set of her dreams and her nightmares. Daisy’s part had turned into a small recurring role, apparently because she kept making everyone on set laugh. Also, it had to do with the chemistry between her character and Grant Ward’s character, although Daisy was adamant that she had no idea what they were talking about.

Daisy had asked Jemma to come hang out with her today on set, and Jemma had hesitantly agreed—only after Daisy had mentioned that Fitz had asked about her. “I think he loves you,” Daisy had said. Jemma had scoffed, but she had immediately asked for the day off work.

“So, you got any more details about Daisy you’d like to share?” Trip asked. “Since we’re both such good friends of hers and all.”

Trip had starting hanging out more and more with Daisy and therefore Jemma. Jemma liked him for Daisy and had been giving Trip little hints about Daisy dos and don’ts. He clearly had it bad for her.

“Well, I’d avoid mentioning Ward, if at all possible.”

Trip seemed particularly interested in this tidbit. “Why’s that?”

“Apparently he and Daisy have to kiss in a scene coming up, and she’s not happy about it. Says he’s been following her around, flexing his muscles and telling her he knows kung fu.”

“That boy doesn’t even know what kung fu is. He’s about to test my patience.”

“Well, he’s already testing Daisy’s. She’s mortified that he actually seems to like her.” How the tables have turned, thought Jemma.

“She is?” Trip asked. Jemma gave him a smile. “Well,” he said, breaking into a smile of his own, “that’s alright then.”

Trip began walking to a nearby golf cart. “Come on, girl. Your chariot awaits.”

 

 

Jemma had to admit, being an official guest of an actor on the show had its perks. If she had had any idea how good the tacos were, she might not have missed them to help Daisy out last time she was here. Of course, then she never would have had the opportunity to come back. Or to meet Fitz.

She felt comfortable calling him Fitz, as they had had a few conversations now. Fitz was friends with Trip, who Fitz called one of the only sane people on this “bloody stupid show.” The two of them had the occasional drink at a nearby bar after filming ended for the day, and they had asked Daisy to join them one evening. She had brought Jemma along, and Jemma had been surprised at how easy it was to actually talk to the dreamiest man she had ever seen—after a couple of drinks, that is. Daisy had cut her off from further alcohol when Jemma had leaned toward him and said, “So, Fitz, tell me more about your bum,” but overall Jemma thought the evening had gone quite well.

Which is why she was more thrilled than nervous (almost) when he had made a point of coming to sit by her while she ate under the catering tent. They had talked so long that everyone else seemed to have left. They had talked about the food (Fitz’s favorite part of the show—that tour guide had not been lying), the comedy that was Ward’s crush on Daisy, and the never-ending topic of how terrible the show was.

“A row of people, doing an interpretive dance about haggis. They were doing these twists and turns. It was like, yeah: be the sheep guts, mate.”

Jemma was laughing so hard she could barely breath. “But,” she gasped, “why?”

Fitz shook his head. “They were serenading the shepherd’s daughter. Over bagpipes. Have you ever heard bagpipes up close? You can’t sing over them, not if you want anyone to hear you.” Fitz closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “They mix it in post-production so you can hear the singing, though. Unfortunately.”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma said. “Why on earth are you on this show?”

Fitz picked up a napkin off the table and began shredding it with his fingers. “I’ve mainly been a stage actor, but you don’t make much money that way.” He looked up at Jemma and gave her a lopsided smile. “I’d like to do something of quality, but my agent said I needed to do whatever I could on screen just to get some name recognition first—” he gestured at the empty chairs and tables around them, “so here I am.”

Jemma reached over and put her hand on his. “With your talent I’m sure you’ll get amazing roles soon. You’ll see.”

Fitz looked down at her hand on his just as Jemma realized she might have overstepped their current boundaries. She pulled her hand away and cleared her throat. “And you never know. Maybe the show will get canceled.”

Fitz chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t be so lucky. Especially since it’s so terrible. If I were on a good show, now that would get canceled.”

Jemma had noticed that Fitz was often down on himself, which she found startling for such a remarkable person. She wanted to wrap him in a big hug.

“Hey Fitz,” called a man’s voice. Jemma saw Trip standing at the edge of the catering tent. He waved at her. “They need you in wardrobe.”

“Coming,” Fitz called. He stood up and threw the rest of his tattered napkin on the table. “Sorry to have to leave you,” he said.

Jemma stood up beside him. “I should head out, too. Daisy was supposed to be done filming with Ward soon, and she’ll probably want to complain about the kissing for the rest of the day.”

Fitz smiled at her but he didn’t seem to be listening to what she was saying. “Right. Good,” he said.

Jemma laughed lightly at him—he really was adorable—and nudged him with her shoulder. “After you, actor-person.”

Fitz still hadn’t moved or taken his eyes off of her. “Hey, Jemma?” he said.

“Yes, Fitz?”

“I know it’s probably weird and you don’t know me and I’m not really sure how to—”

“What is it, Fitz?” Jemma would have been concerned at his rambling speech, if he hadn’t been smiling.

“Dinner,” he said.

“What?”

“Dinner. To eat.”

“I just ate, Fitz.”

“No, I mean later.”

“Yes, I’ll probably eat dinner later.” Jemma was starting to wonder if he was ever going to get to a point.

“But with me,” said Fitz.

“Oh,” she said. It was all she could think of to say. Was he asking her out?

“Unless you don’t want to,” he said very quickly, turning from her and pushing back his chair. “Sorry. I just, we seem to get on and—”

“Yes!” said Jemma. Well, maybe from the way Fitz had winced in pain she had more yelled it.

Fitz looked back at her and grinned shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” said Jemma. “I would love to have dinner with you.”

Fitz knocked over his chair entirely and then scrambled to pick it up.

“Excellent,” he said, once he and the chair had made up back upright. “Well, I’ll give you a text later about that,” he held up his phone, in which Jemma had inserted her number only a few minutes before.

“Yo, Fitz!” A yell from the other side of the tent made them both jump. A man Jemma didn’t recognize pointed to the nearest trailer and then walked off.

“That’s Robbie, telling me I need to get to wardrobe. I should go. You do not want to see him when he’s angry.”

Fitz caught Jemma’s eye again and smiled.

“You’ll text me later? For dinner?” she said.

“Later,” he said, and he nodded awkwardly at her before leaving in the direction of the wardrobe trailer.

Jemma sat back down in her chair, suddenly unable to stand. Daisy wouldn’t be the only one with a lot to talk about this afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's clear that it is the fictional show that is mangling Scottish culture and not me. Haggis dance. Hehe.


	4. Chapter 4

“And then he kissed me!” Daisy seemed absolutely shocked.

“Umm,” said Jemma, “wasn’t he supposed to?”

Daisy huffed. “Yes. But it was so…real! I thought it would be tv kissing.”

“TV kissing?”

“Yeah, you know. Like maybe they’d get me a stunt double, or something?”

Daisy seemed perturbed and a little violated after kissing Ward, so Jemma chose not to comment on the stunt double thing. She listened patiently to Daisy’s complaints, until she just couldn’t hold in her news any longer.

“His breath didn’t smell bad, exactly, in fact I think he’d eaten like an entire thing of breath mints. It was just that he smelled like _him_ , you know?”

Jemma put her cup of tea down on her breakfast nook table and spoke. “Yeah, Ward-smell, terrible. So, I did a thing today.”

Daisy was pulling a beer out of the fridge and held one up for Jemma.

“No thank you,” Jemma said. “I have plans tonight, and I want to be at my best.”

“Plans? What plans?”

Jemma tried to keep her voice casual. “Nothing much. Just dinner with Fitz.”

Daisy nearly spilled her beer all over herself. “What?! Like a date? A _date_ date?”

“Yes. He asked me out.” Jemma was no longer casual. She was grinning like a woman having dinner with her favorite tv star.

“I can’t even.” Daisy clearly couldn’t even. She leapt up from where she was leaning against the kitchen counter and yelled, “Makeup!”

Jemma jumped in her chair. “What?”

“We have to get you ready! Dress and makeup and hair and…I wonder if I could call Nancy from the show to come over and give you makeover.”

“Now hang on a minute.” Jemma help up her hand. “I am planning on getting ready, but clearly Fitz likes me the way I already am, so I hardly think there’s any need for a makeover.”

Daisy stuck out her lower lip. “Oh my jeez, that’s adorable. He likes you for who you are! You guys are going to have so many babies!”

Jemma was a bit annoyed, but she was too thrilled to be angry. “Can you just help me pick out something to wear? I’m meeting him in a couple of hours.”

“Hours?? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” Daisy ran out of the room. Jemma wasn’t sure where she was going, but she followed her out of the kitchen

“Hey, do you think I should wear a dress, or would that be weird?”

“I’m going to make you into a princess!” Daisy called. Jemma rolled her eyes. She would have something to say about that.  


 

 

A couple of hours later Jemma was seated in a beautiful Italian restaurant lit by candlelight. She was wearing a pair of dress slacks and attractive but sensible shoes. She absolutely did not look like a princess.

Fitz was dressed in a suit with a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. Bloody hell he was handsome.

There was an awkward silence for a minute or two after they were seated. Fitz was clearly nervous, and Jemma had been transported into some sort of alternate anxiety dimension.

“So,” said Fitz. “Read any good books lately?”

Jemma smiled. “Not since the last time you asked, earlier today.”

Fitz nodded. “Right. Makes sense. How do you feel about…the weather?”

Jemma laughed. “It’s great. Or it’s terrible. I haven’t really paid attention tonight. Been a bit distracted.”

Fitz took a deep breath. “Yeah, me, too.” He looked up from the menu he had been hiding behind since they sat down. “Jemma?”

“Yes, Fitz?”

“Dates are just dreadful, aren’t they?”

Jemma couldn’t help grinning. “They can be pretty awkward social situations, yes.” She held his gaze for a moment. “I think how much you enjoy them depends on the company, though.”

Fitz smiled at her and they sat there for a while, grinning at each other.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said. Score one for team not-a-princess, thought Jemma. She fought the urge to tell him that he looked beautiful, too.

“Thank you,” she said. She looked back down at her menu. “Do you know anything about the food?”

“No,” said Fitz. “I just know it’s fancy. But not so fancy they serve you fish-foam or freeze-dried artichokes or something. I checked.”

“We must make sure you’re fed.” Jemma was becoming well aware of Fitz’s affection for a good meal.

Fitz seemed to realize that Jemma was teasing him. “I’m a growing man, Jemma.”

“Are you?”

Fitz looked down at himself. “I keep waiting for it. I have the body of a twelve-year-old.”

Jemma shook her head, not sure she could be more emphatic. “That’s not true! You’re not large and muscular like Ward or Trip.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows. “Feeling better already, Simmons.”

“But you are absolutely adorable as you are.”

Fitz blushed. Jemma had not meant to blurt that out, but oh well, there it was. No point in denying her attraction to him. He had just told her she was beautiful, after all. (For the second time!)

“You say that now, but just wait until I eat an entire plate of lasagna and breadsticks and desert. I can be pretty disgusting, when I’m hungry.”

Jemma hid her smile behind her menu. “I can’t wait.”

 

 

“And then Daisy started singing some song from Hamilton and doing this dance and even Ward laughed. She’s really making the work days a lot more fun.”

Fitz and Jemma were walking down the sidewalk toward her apartment after dinner. He held her hand, which he was swinging gently. Jemma wasn’t sure she had ever felt so happy.

“I’m so glad it’s working out for her to have a small part on the show,” she said. “I never did thank you properly for getting her that audition. It’s meant so much to her.”

“Well, honestly she’s gotten all of that herself. She really can sing. That audition tape of hers was impressive. I’m not much of a Britney Spears fan—”

Jemma laughed to herself. She knew it.

“—but Daisy does have talent. All I did was pass it on. And don’t forget the help you gave her. Going toe to toe with Grant Ward, all to help a friend.” Fitz nudged her shoulder. “Pretty brave.”

“You’re the one who took him on. I just stammered and tried not to vomit on my shoes.”

Fitz laughed out loud. “I thought it was pretty cool of you, to do that for Daisy. And you sounded so sweet, when I could hear you from the window of my trailer. I was afraid he was going to eat you alive.”

“So you came to my rescue. My hero.”

Fitz shrugged. “Never could deny a beautiful woman anything.”

There it was again. Beautiful. She could really get used to this.

“Daisy says you’re nice to everyone on set, so I’m not sure I believe it was my great beauty that convinced you.”

Fitz expression darkened a bit. “I’m nice to those who deserve it. There are some serious egos on that set.”

Jemma had wondered about his opinion of some of his colleagues. Especially that Aida, who played his love interest Ophelia on the show. She had seen some press photos of the two of them laughing and looking like they enjoyed one another. And then she had seen the scenes on the show in which they… _really_ enjoyed one another. She wasn’t sure how to bring her up, though.

“Aida, for instance,” said Fitz.

Jemma immediately perked up. “Hmmm?”

“She plays Ophelia—you’ve seen the show, right? Of course, you have, because of Daisy. Anyway, she—Aida—is just about the rudest person you will ever meet.”

“Is she?” Jemma was very interested in this news.

“You know how they say you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat a waiter?”

“Yes.”

“Well, she treats everyone on set like they’re her personal servants. She ordered Robbie Reyes to get her a drink today. Robbie. He’s one of the best special effects guys in the business, and she’s ordering him to bring her coffee.” Fitz chuckled with little humor. “He looked like he could kill her. I’d watch out, if I were her.”

Jemma was not displeased with his discussion of Aida; clearly she didn’t have anything to worry about on that front. She did, however, worry about Fitz being on that set.

“It sounds like there are a lot of people you work with who may be contemplating murder. I’m not sure I’d feel safe.”

Fitz sighed. “Yeah, most of them suck. But there are a few good ones. Like Trip. And Daisy. And Robbie’s not bad, just misunderstood.”

Jemma squeezed Fitz’s hand. “I just wish you were happy in your work,” she said.

Fitz looked at her and smiled. “I’m happy right now. If that counts for anything.”

Jemma could feel herself blushing. “It does to me.” She looked up and realized they were almost to her building.

“Fitz?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’d like to come up for a drink?”

He grinned. “Maybe a cuppa?”

Jemma grinned back. “I think I can manage it.”

 

 

Jemma dropped her purse on the couch and walked toward her breakfast nook table. She opened her laptop. Fitz came up behind her.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen it,” he said. “Trip showed me like, three times the first day I met him.”

“I guess he’s always been distracted by Daisy every time I’ve been around him.” She entered her laptop password and waited for it to start.

“Yeah, he is pretty mad about her. Here, let me find it.” Fitz sat down in Jemma’s chair and pulled the laptop toward himself.

“I’ll just go start the tea, and we can watch it when I’m done,” she said. She walked into the kitchen. Where were her nice cups and saucers?

“It’s an amazing short,” Fitz said to her from the other room. “He made it in college, apparently. He’s an excellent director. I wish he could get some real work…”

Jemma was placing the kettle on the stove. “I guess he’s not the only one wasting his talents on that show.”

Jemma grabbed the tea from the cabinet and the milk from the fridge. She was just arranging the cups and saucers on a tray when Fitz spoke again.

“Hey Jemma?”

“Yes?”

“What’s ‘sex pollen’?”

Jemma started to laugh and then froze. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. She ran out of the kitchen.

Fitz was staring at the computer screen with wide eyes that were growing increasingly wider.

“Fitz, what are you reading? I—I didn’t mean for you to—”

“What is this?” Fitz said with a shaky voice. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the screen.

“It’s just something I wrote, for fun, just a thing that I do…”

Fitz stood up from the table and pushed his chair back. He looked around the room like a startled animal. He did not look her in the eye. “Is that…me?” He gestured toward the laptop.

Jemma bit her lip. “Well…technically it’s your character on the show...”

Fitz gasped and spun around so he wasn’t facing her.

“But I didn’t mean for you to read it. It’s just some fun. I write for other fans…it’s not...” Jemma didn’t know what to say. She was staring at his back. She reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Fitz.”

The moment she touched him Fitz jerked sideways and walked over to the couch on which he had tossed his jacket. “I need to go,” he said.

“No, Fitz, please. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that. I—”

“I need to go. Now.” Fitz grabbed his jacket and stared at the floor by the door, still not looking her in the eyes. “Thank you for coming to dinner.” He opened the door and left.

Jemma stood in her suddenly quiet flat, staring after him. Slowly, she made her way over to sit at her laptop. On it was a fic of hers. Daisy had finally given her a beta on it after Jemma left for dinner. Great.

She closed the computer and dropped her head down onto it, feeling the cool plastic on her skin. She wasn’t going to cry, she told herself. Until this moment the evening had been magical, so she should have known it couldn’t last. Magic wasn’t real.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to have a little angst because plot, but there is a happy ending next chapter, I promise!


	5. Chapter 5

Jemma was exhausted. She put the pizza box, bottle of wine, and carton of ice cream on her coffee table. She didn’t normally partake of all her vices at once, but she was just trying to get through the moment. And the one after that.

Jemma dug into the ice cream with a spoon. She had had a terrible week. She had made an uncharacteristic mistake in the lab, which had cost her team several days of work. It was incredibly unlike her, and she kept apologizing to anyone who would listen. She had had a presentation that morning which she thought had gone quite well, until her supervisor had pulled her aside to tell her that these were the shareholders and not the next round of human subjects for clinical trials. She had given the wrong presentation. She remembered now that Kevin had said “good luck with the shareholders” as she went to the meeting, that Piper had asked “don’t you have a meeting with the shareholders this morning?”, and that she had a large sticky note on her desk that read “Meeting with shareholders: Don’t forget!” She probably should have remembered.

She was just so distracted. Normally science calmed her. She liked its rhythms and patterns. They relaxed her mind almost like meditation. She had always been good at science. But her real passion was and always had been books. Books of any kind, since she was young. She thought this was why she was so good at math and science, honestly. Give her a textbook and she could understand anything.

As she got more and more into science she had taken to reading more and more fanciful fiction. The more she grounded herself in the laws of the universe the more she wanted to break them. Her imagination was vivid and excitable, and once she had discovered fanfiction, well, she had become hooked. Her writing kept alive the parts of her mind that she didn’t use in her work. Besides, everyone needs a hobby.

Jemma put down the ice cream and opened the pizza box. She realized she was making excuses. She didn’t need to justify herself. She liked writing fanfiction and a handful of people out there liked reading it. She didn’t have to explain why she did it. He wasn’t going to listen to her if she did.

Jemma had not heard from Fitz since the date fiasco, and it had been a week. According to Daisy, Fitz was sad and moody on set, although, she didn’t know if she trusted Daisy’s opinion any more. Daisy had also insisted that Fitz had eaten half of the buffalo and mozzarella sandwich Jemma had made for Daisy one day and called it the best thing he had ever tasted. That man knew food: there was no way he would have said that.

Daisy had also insisted that the best way to make things up to Fitz would be to buy him a monkey. “Not an actual, live one!” she had said, after Jemma had begun detailing the costs and general immoral nature of owning a wild animal. “I mean like a stuffed one, or something. A toy.”

Again, Jemma suspected Daisy was either misleading her or confused. What kind of grown man would be obsessed with monkeys? And how was she supposed to give it to him? He wouldn’t return her texts or calls, and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to just show up on set. That’s probably something a crazy, obsessed fan would do, which is undoubtedly what he thought she was now.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a crazy, obsessed fan! Some of her best friends on the internet—

Jemma was stopped from her internal monologue by a knock at her door. Daisy had said that she was coming over to help her drown her sorrows. She put down her glass of wine and went to open the door.

“Hi,” said Fitz, who was standing in her door, holding a stuffed monkey. Jemma blinked. She had only had half a glass of wine, she was certain.

“Hello,” she responded slowly.

Fitz looked nervous. He swallowed and gestured into her apartment with the monkey. “Is it alright if I come in?”

Jemma nodded and stepped back so Fitz could walk past her. He looked at the coffee table and said “Sorry, I know you were expecting Daisy. Looks like you two were going to have quite the party.”

Jemma nodded again. She wasn’t capable of speech just yet.

Fitz stared at her. “I asked her if I could come over, to see you. I mean, I should have asked you, but she said she was coming here and I asked if I could come and she said I should go instead of her and…” He trailed off.

“Thanks for this,” he said, holding up the monkey.

“Oh,” said Jemma.

Fitz gave a little smile down at the toy. “Not sure how you knew. Always liked monkeys. Always wanted one. Not a real one, though. That seems like it would be kind of sad, I mean they’re wild animals. And also not sure I could afford it…” Fitz was rambling again. Jemma checked, and nope, she still didn’t have the power of speech.

“So,” said Fitz, “I’ve been doing a lot of reading this week.” He put the monkey down on the couch so it looked like it was watching them. Jemma would have to remember to thank Daisy for that. When she could speak again.

“Been reading something called ‘fanfiction,’ which I didn’t really know much about. Some of it’s really good. As long as you avoid certain—” Fitz cleared his throat, “things.”

Jemma tried to make herself apologize—this would be the perfect time!—but she just inhaled a deep breath and closed her mouth again.

“You’re an excellent writer, Jemma,” he said. Wait, what had he said? “Really excellent.” Oh, that was it.

“I’ve been reading a lot of your stories,” he said. He looked almost bashful. “Daisy told me how to find them, and you’ve got real talent. I mean, I can’t really say that I’ve ever thought about being a florist—”

Jemma started. He’d read _that_??

“—or a Hogwarts professor, but the worlds you create are quite brilliant. It’s ten times better than the drivel they produce on our show.”

Jemma coughed. Or rather, she tried to speak, and it came out as a sort of wheeze. She tried again. “But, but, aren’t you mad at me?”

Fitz’s face turned a little red and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t mad so much as confused. And embarrassed.” His eyes were now solidly focused on the floor. “I’ve never read anything like… _that_ about myself before. It was startling.”

“I know; I’m so sorry for the way you found it. I would have told you about my writing at some point and maybe even eventually about _that_ kind of writing, but I didn’t intend to spring it on you on our first date. It’s true, though: I am a fanfiction writer.” Jemma said this proudly but also possibly for the first time out loud. Really, what was there to be ashamed of?

Fitz was looking at her again, a twinkle in his eye. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

Jemma found herself smiling and found that Fitz was, too. It was that same staring into each other’s eyes ridiculously happy grinning that they had perfected during their date. She did not mind at all.

“I’ve got a question for you, though,” said Fitz.

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you try writing professionally? You really are good.”

Jemma bit her lip. “I just…I don’t know. How do you do that, exactly?”

Fitz reached out for her hand and led her to the couch. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. They both sat down, and he arranged the monkey snugly between them. “Mind if I join you?” he gestured to the pizza and ice cream. Of course, he was hungry.

“Not at all,” she said. Fitz was still holding her hand, across their new monkey friend.

“I just have one thing I want to make clear,” said Fitz, reaching with his free hand to grab a slice of pizza.

“Yes?”

“I will never wear a kilt for you.”

Jemma laughed.

“I’m serious!,” said Fitz, although his face said otherwise. “I read that…stuff you wrote.” He was blushing again. Jemma was really going to have her work cut out for her with this one. It’s called sex, Fitz.

“And I just want you to know that I only wear a kilt in silent protest at work, and it will never be something I do for…fun.”

Jemma tried to school her features into a serious expression. “Deal. No kilts.”

Fitz was fiddling with the fingers of her hand, chewing his pizza in silent contemplation. He swallowed. “Although, that sex pollen stuff. Is that real?”

Jemma laughed again and reached up to wipe a bit of sauce off his cheek. “For that you’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

 

 

 

_One year later_

“Right, let’s reset for another take!” said Trip. The crew scrambled around in a synchronized chaos that Jemma was certain she would never understand. Fitz went to his mark, but he caught her eye and gave her a tiny wave. Jemma waved back.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe how tight this dress is. Why did I eat all those churros?” Jemma turned to see Daisy walking on set in a ballgown. She looked beautiful.

“Damn girl,” said Trip. “You look like a princess!”

Daisy had the biggest grin on her face that Jemma had ever seen from her. She winked at Jemma. “Some men know what’s up,” she said.

Trip walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Trip,” Daisy exclaimed, “you’ll mess up my makeup!”

Trip held onto her waist a little longer. “Well Nancy works for me, so I don’t think she’ll get mad. I’m kind of a big deal.”

“I’ve heard that,” said Daisy. She gave him a peck on the lips. “But it looks like this big deal needs to get back to work.” She gave a pointed look over his shoulder at the crew, ready for another take.

“Alright. But I will definitely get back to you about this.” Trip took one last look at her dress and walked back to the camera.

“You better!” Daisy called after him. She turned to Jemma. “Guess what I heard this morning?”

“And, quiet!” Trip yelled to the room.

Daisy grabbed Jemma’s arm and pulled her out into a hallway, well out of earshot of the set. “Well?” she asked.

 “I don’t know, Daisy. What did you hear?”

“That we are this close—” she held up her index finger and thumb so that they were nearly touching, “to getting picked up to do a real show.”

“Really?” Jemma didn’t want to get her hopes up, although they had been getting a lot of good reviews and press since the first episodes had aired.

“Really,” said Daisy. “Everyone loves the series, Jemma.”

Jemma wasn’t sure that that was true, but she certainly loved it herself. It was the creation of all the people she cared about the most, a realization of all of their dreams. Including her own.

With much encouragement from Daisy and Fitz, Jemma had written the scripts for a web series. Daisy and Fitz would star in it, and Trip would direct. They had even managed to bring over some of their favorite cast and crew members from Braveheart Again: The Musical, including Robbie Reyes, who had a fierce temper but—as Fitz had said—really was quite skilled at special effects.

There was some concern over funding, but then Daisy had magically presented them with all the money they needed to get started. She had waved her hand when asked where it had come from and said “it’s all ones and zeroes.” Jemma chose not to ask any more questions.

They had all taken the leap and quit their respective jobs, none with more pleasure than Fitz. He fired his agent and hired a new one name Bobbi Morse who thought this web series was a great idea.

Everything was working out perfectly. Jemma twisted the engagement ring on her finger. Especially with Fitz.

As though on cue Fitz popped his head out the door of their small set. “Daisy, Trip needs you,” he said.

“Does he ever,” said Daisy, with a fond roll of her eyes. She walked away, and Fitz swapped places with her by Jemma’s side.

“I thought I’d sneak away for a minute and say hi,” he said.

“Hi,” said Jemma.

“Hi,” he said back.

He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head to his chest.

“Daisy says we might get that call soon,” she said.

“Bobbi says so, too.”

Jemma pulled back within their embrace to look at him. “But, if it does happen, and things change, we’ll stay together, right?”

Fitz kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll never be separated,” he said. “We have a rule.”

“We have a rule,” Jemma repeated. She leaned back in to his chest, and he held her to him.

“We’ll get through it together, love,” he said. Jemma smiled. Maybe there was magic in the world after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of my love letter to fanfiction, which is awesome despite getting a bad rap sometimes. Stay strong friends!
> 
> Thanks so much for all of the kudos and comments! They mean so much to me!


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